


Bit of Party Fun

by hungry_hobbits



Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Carnivale Snippet, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Nothing terribly explicit so, Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 05:34:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15527202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hungry_hobbits/pseuds/hungry_hobbits
Summary: A dance or two won't hurt.





	Bit of Party Fun

It was such a grand affair, _Carnivale_. Captain Fitzjames had certainly outdone himself. The lights, the decorations, the feast. Of course there two motives when it came to the festival: to lift the spirits and liven the mood, as well as do away with excess. There was a dark truth to the purpose of Carnivale, but the men did not need to know that. The men were going to have fun for at least one night, and then greet the first sun rise after a long and harsh winter. After that only the captains knew, at least for the time being.

 

~ ⚓ ~

 

“Come dance with me, John.” Peglar’s cheeks were pink, both from a ruddy paint and the blush of inebriation. It suited him, made him look even more youthful than his fluffy beard did. Henry Peglar barely looked like a man in his thirties with his soft face. His small frame was nearly swallowed by the costume he wore; a golden jacket with adorned with filigree and ornamentation sewn in bright threads, his kerchief done up in a fancy knot. Though he looked a bit silly with his gloves peeking out from the lace of his sleeve cuffs, and his shaggy mop of hair tucked under a welsh wig.

“I’m helping with the food. It’d be a bit rude to leave my post without warning.” Bridgens had to raise his voice above the noise caused by the rabble around them.

“When’s the last time we had a chance to dance together? With music and song?”

“That is true.”

“John, _please_. Just for a little while.” He put both hands on the jacketed arm of Bridgens, who was not in costume and was serving as a temporary cook with the chef, Mister Diggle. The sailor’s green eyes were illuminated by the oil lanterns and the lit totems, and Bridgens could see the excitement in them.

Bridgens could not say no to such a pleading look. He would not nor could not be cruel enough to deny the love of his life a rare night of fun in which they both could partake.

“I suppose Mister Diggle won’t miss me for the length of a dance or two.” Before his sentence could be completely finished he was dragged from the cooking station by Peglar. The steward could not remember the last time he had seen Peglar just so happy.

 

The members of the crew that were musically talented had taken it upon themselves to provide music for the Carnivale. Some of the more drunk ones (Lieutenant Irving included, to the surprise of many) decided to grace the engagement with accompanying song.

Peglar brought Bridgens into a circle of men, off in pairs and dancing arm and arm with their fellow crewmate. The comradery of the mixed crews was a wonderful thing, not that there had ever been competition between the Terrors or the Erebites.

Neither of them would call themselves very well versed in dancing, but they did not need any skill in order to have fun. They filled each other’s arms, laughing and spinning. Bridgens attempted a rather dramatic dip of his partner, causing a round of cheers from the other patrons. His face hurt from smiling, but his heart swelled with pure elation when he pulled Peglar back up and wrapped his arms around the smaller man.

“John!” The sailor laughed, his eyes filled with the happiest of tears, “I had no idea you could do that!”

“Spirit of the dance overtook me!” Bridgens replied with a chuckle. He spun around again with Peglar in his arms, their dancer’s embrace taking on a form more resembling a tight and much needed hug.

“I wish this night wouldn’t end. I want to be like this with you forever, John.” His words were nearly drowned out by the “singing” of drunkards, which might have been a good thing as they were much too intimate for the mixed company they found themselves in.

 

~ ⚓ ~

 

It was Bridgens who lead them from the crowd of dancers and their presence was not missed as the circle of men closed behind them. He searched for a quiet spot, one they could share a moment alone in.

“How much have you had to drink?” Bridgens tried not to chide his partner but could not help himself. He found a crate for them to share a seat on and wrapped an arm back around Peglar, “Cannot tell where the paint starts and the blush ends.”

“It’s mostly paint. I might be small but I can handle my grog.” Peglar rested his head on the steward’s shoulder.

“Your size has never gotten in the way of anything, has it?”

“Not where it counts, anyway.” Peglar brought his head up and his face was split with the most mischievous of smiles. He laughed when Bridgens rolled his eyes, “Hey, I can climb you just as easily as I can a mast, and I don’t have to worry about the rope with you!”

“Cannot remember the last time I’ve heard you be so cheeky.”

“I’m in a good mood, especially thanks to you.”

“Are you sure a bigger thanks should not go to the alcohol?”

“John,” Peglar cupped Bridgens’ face in his hands. He loved the way the man’s beard felt beneath his fingers, even in the cold, “I’m happy to be with you. When I heard about the Carnivale, I knew I’d finally have a chance to have some proper fun with you. I even picked a costume to make me look fancy. I wanted you to think I was handsome.”

“I always think you’re handsome, but the coat does suit you. You’re the finest dandy in the Arctic, my love."

Maybe it _was_ the alcohol that gave Peglar a boost of bravery. The other men weren’t too far away but that did not stop him from pulling Bridgens into a kiss. It was soft at first, a bit clumsy from how unexpected it was. Bridgens had to lean down a bit in order to make it more comfortable. They smiled against each other’s lips. At least until Bridgens felt a hand wandering up his thigh.

 

“Henry.” His tone was harsher than he intended, “You realize where your hand is?”

“I do.”

“And what exactly are you intending to do?”

“Have a bit of fun. I wanted to get around to it at some point during the night if I worked up the courage, got you away from the pot...” Peglar brushed his fingers against the crotch of Bridgens’ trousers while pulling the man closer so that he may pepper what little of his neck was exposed with kisses, “You need to loosen up, John. You don’t need to worry about taking care of everyone at every moment. When was the last time we were like this?”

“It has been too long but what if we are…”

“Seen? Who is gonna be sober enough to remember if they catch us? _Please_ , let me do this for you, John.” There was a different sort of pleading look on Peglar’s face. Different from the one that coaxed Bridgens into dancing, yet it was another one he had difficulty saying no to.

“You are worse than a siren, and if you were one I would gladly walk into the ocean and drown myself for you.” Bridgens gasped when the sailor’s hand cupped his bulge. He remembered the first time Peglar’s hand had been on his cock. It was the most awkward hand job he had ever received in his life and yet it meant the world to him because it came from his lover, not that they were lovers then. It had been more of an experimentation, a testing of the waters. Waters that lead to something much greater. But now, Peglar had a few years under his belt, a few years to get better at the act. And he had his moments where he liked to show off.

Peglar removed his hand only with the intention of removing his glove. The cold hit it quickly but it would be warm soon enough and he knew Bridgens would appreciate not dealing with the chafe that could come with the rough rubbing of wool against a man’s part. He spit into his hand to give it some lubrication, working with what he had when he had nothing. A bit of fumbling and the sailor’s hand found a new place within the steward’s trousers, quickly grabbling hold of his half hard prick.

Bridgens tensed for a moment, hot kisses and a cold hand were causing his mind and heart to flutter. He moved Peglar so that they may kiss (and not run the risk of any lingering marks on Bridgens’ neck). The older man moaned softly, using Peglar’s mouth to muffle his noises

“Is this alright?” Peglar whispered, his strokes quick for time was short. The movement was made awkward with the confines of Bridgens’ pants but he made due as he had done before, “Feels good?”

The steward pressed their foreheads together, “It does. It does.”

He kept a grip on the edge of the crate, trying not to buck so hard into Peglar’s hand and throw off the rhythm. He pressed his mouth back to Peglar’s as he came, groaning against his lips.

 

Peglar wiped his hand on his pants, really not worried about the mess. He had a smile on his face in regards to the somewhat relaxed and blissful look on his partner’s.

“Aren’t you glad I pulled you away from cooking duty?”

“I am.”

“Do you want to dance some more?”

“You must be joking. You have to give me a moment! I’m sure Mister Diggle is furious I abandoned him.”

“He’ll get over it!” Peglar laughed, “Take your time. I’m not leaving your side any time soon.”

 

They sat together in silence for a few minutes. Even though Peglar was eager to return to the festivities he was content to sit there with his lover for a while longer. They’d be back amongst sober, watchful eyes soon enough, might as well make good use of any private time they could get together.


End file.
